


Grey SHIELD

by orphan_account



Series: Dragon Age: Avengers [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Dragon Age II, Dragon Age: Inquisition, Dragon Age: Origins, Iron Man (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Avengers AU, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, Dragon Age AU, Dragon Age Avengers, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-25
Updated: 2015-07-06
Packaged: 2018-04-06 03:08:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4205643
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>inspired by Slugette's wonderful artwork of Warden Steve Rogers <a href="http://slugette.tumblr.com/post/108982950495/captain-america-feralden-the-grey-wardens-are"> here</a>, this is a shameless Avengers/Dragon Age crossover merge thing.</p><p>I LOVE IT.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. New Assignment

“I thought I’d find you here.“ 

With a last slash, the Warden cut the practice dummy in two. The top teetered for a moment before he reached out and nudged it over with his shield.  With a thud, it fell to the ground, sending up a plume of haydust into the late afternoon air.

Steve only then looked over at the Warden Commander. He was small… for a qunari, his hornless head bare of hair and helmet. The eyepatch hid the worst  of the scar that some darkspawn had left, but Steve had seen worse on the field. Commander Fury hadn’t let the wound slow him down.

Things certainly had changed since the last blight. The Qunari were… a surprise after Fury had deactivated the stasis spell that had trapped him. At first, disoriented and confused, Steve was sure that the Qunari had been some kind of blighted creature.

“I’ve heard some interesting things from the Frost backs, I want you and Lady Romanoff to go check it out,” Fury said, arms crossed over his chest. “The Templars and Mages are supposed to be meeting for peace talks, but there’s been rumours of some Tevinter activity.”

Steve sheathed his sword, and pulled the remains of the dummy off it’s stake. He tossed it over to the pile of similarly  broken targets, and walked over to where a new one lay against the barracks wall. Only one left, he’d have to make more before he could keep training. Or ask the quarter master extra nicely.

“That doesn’t sound like Warden business,” he said, hefting the fresh dummy with his free arm. “Why do you want me there?” Romanoff he could understand, the rogue was constantly running intelligence expeditions… but why the Hero of Fereldan?  Why a Warden?

“Romanoff found some documents that are troubling… there’s a group of Vints that want to start a sixth blight. Idiots think that they can control it,” Fury said, his eye narrowing to a slit. “I want you to go in and find out if it’s true. If it is, put an end to it.”

The Warden didn’t even bother drawing his sword. With a mighty swing, the shield’s edge sliced through the dummy, canvas, hay, and all.

“When do we head out?” He asked, watching as the dummy fell apart.

“Romanoff’s waiting for you by the gate,” Fury said. “Seeker Hill is waiting for you at Haven with some old friends.” The Qunari smiled, puckering the scar tissue up around his eyepatch.

“Don’t be late, Warden.”


	2. The Oldest Warden Alive

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Natasha and Steve are on their way to Haven to look into a plot against the Divine. Steve is still struggling to adjust to the 'modern' world of Thedas, while Natasha tries to lighten the mood.
> 
> Then everything changes.

The camp’s fire crackled and snapped, throwing sparks up into the night sky. Steve followed them with his eyes, watching them flare in the cold night air, then die out. Much like the Wardens. Live brightly, die young. That was how he had planned his life to be. Volunteering as a kid, young and idealistic, now all his friends, everyone who he had known from back then, were gone. Long dead.

He looked up at the stars, seeking out familiar constellations as he always did, to remind himself that he was in the same world he had grown up in. The constellations were still there, but different. Some stars were brighter than they had been before, while others had gone dark.

It was too easy to fall back into memories if he wasn’t paying attention. He had new compatriots now, a new commander and a new handler. Different eras, different people but sometimes… sometimes he was sure the assassin’s curls were chestnut instead of flame coloured, and that she was leaner, taller. That her name was… not _Natasha_.

The wrong name had slipped out, once. More out of habit than true confusion, but Steve caught Romanoff watching him closely for days after. No doubt she had been calculating how sane he was, and how much of a liability his mind could be. He’d seen _her_ face only two years ago. Felt the softness of her ringlets and saw the way her smile lit up the world… and yet to everyone else, she’d been gone for over four centuries.

Steve’s eyes found Draconis, although the stars that made up great dragon’s wings were further apart than he remembered. Just off the dragon’s wing, the star that he had shared with _Her_ had faded. He could only see it when he focused on the head of the beast, the star that had been so bright four hundred years ago would disappear if he looked straight at it.

The familiar pang of loss gripped his chest, and Steve reached up to rub at where a locket with her image hung over his chest.

“One of the bad nights?” Romanoff asked, looking up from her bowl of nug stew. Since his return to the world, Fury had linked Romanoff to him as a primary companion. At first, Steve had feelt that the Warden Commander had been up to something less than respectable, putting such a beautiful woman  in a position  so close to him without realising (or maybe _as a result_ of realising) that to Steve four hundred years felt like only yesterday.

 “Yeah,” he said, fingers tracing the edge of the locket through his shirt.

It was only as he got to know Romanoff that Steve realised he’d misread both Fury and the assassin herself. Romanoff wasn’t there to seduce him, she was there because she knew how this modern world worked and understood the connections between the new factions at a level that few others did. Steve realised in surprise that he’d started trusting her at some point over the last year, and he wasn’t quite sure when that had happened.

“We’re almost there,” she said, scraping her spoon over the bottom of her bowl to catch the last slivers of meat. “There’ll be fighting, maybe. Probably. You’ll get to be the hero to all the Templars.” It was meant as a joke, but Steve winced at the thought of a crowd of Templars crowding around. The smell of lyrium was often on their breath, similar to the way ozone clung to a thunderstorm. They chose to serve Andraste in a way that put their wills up against addiction. To serve was to give up a part of oneself, and as a Warden, Steve had given up any hope of growing old, of having children or becoming a landed noble.

As uncomfortable as he felt about their addictions, Steve knew that they willingly submitted to them in order to serve Andraste and keep the people safe from abominations.

“Thanks,” he said dryly. “You really know how to make a fella relax before he walks into the powder keg tomorrow evening.” He looked over at her. 

Natasha smiled, tossing him a wink. She set her bowl aside, and stretched out her back with a series of audible pops.

“Think we’ll be at Haven by this time tomorrow?” he asked, glancing back up at the sky. The beginnings of an aurora had started to dance over the peaks of the Frostbacks.

“Unless you slow us down,” Natasha said with a half laugh. “I could tell Fury that your old age is starting to wear you out.”

He reached out and pushed her off the log they were sitting on in response to _that_ comment. She laughed, sprawled on her back with her legs hooked over the log. Her hair spilled out like blood on the snowy ground.

“I suppose I deserved that,” She said, grinning at him.

Steve blinked, and for a moment it was _her_ there, laying back on the ground and smiling at him with warm eyes and chestnut curls. He still remembered how her lips tasted, the way her hair smelled like elfroot and Andraste’s Grace-

“Steve…”

Steve blinked, realising he’d started to lean forward when Natasha twisted her body, a booted foot kicking out and connecting with his chest plate, knocking him off the log as well. Had she seen his face change?

“I’m sorry I-”

Steve blinked, looking up at the aurora that had started to angrily swirl above them. White light had given way to a sickly green and now spun in a dizzyingly large maelstrom above them.  Green clouds swallowed the stars with every breath, hiding Draconis completely within seconds.

Before he had a chance to ask what it was, the aurora detonated in a flash of brilliant green light. The deafening crack followed a heartbeat later, ricocheting off the mountains that surrounded them.  Out of instinct he threw himself over his partner, shielding her from any debris that might fall out of the sky onto them.

“Maker’s breath,” Natasha shouted through the ringing in their ears. “That was by the Temple…”  She pushed up against him to lever him off only to freeze in place.

The ground under them was shaking, a dull roar slowly becoming audible as the painful ringing faded.  A dull roar that was coming from the top of the mountain.

“Hold on!” he shouted, pushing himself up and wrapping an arm around her waist. He hauled her up with him and sprinted for the thin shelter of a nearby copse of trees, praying to Andraste that they’d make it before the wall of snow that was rushing down the mountain consumed them both.

Certain they wouldn’t make it, he lept and rolled forward, curled up around Natasha to try to keep her safe. The avalanche hit them both, hard enough to knock the air for Steve’s lungs, and batter his arms and back. He held onto the assassin tightly, not willing to lose her in the tumbling mass of white.


End file.
